Hero
by UnluckyAmulet
Summary: Some children visit Link and learn the consequences of wanting to be a hero. Link x Zelda. Graphic Content.


Disclaimer: I don't own Zelda.

Pretty angsty fic, mainly inspired by Twilight Princess (though it's not specifically in-game) and all those idiot children telling Link they want to be _exactly_ like him, and the idea sort of grew from there. Some Zelda/Link, and very tiny hint of Zelda/Ganondorf. Somewhat graphic descriptions. Rated T.

Enjoy!

* * *

Link has some visitors.

Watching them sitting crossed-legged in his tree house (for lack of a more appropriate term), he feels like the air in the room has suddenly become slightly poisonous.

They look at him as though he's simply fallen from the sky. Their expressions are filled with awe, almost worshipful, and every time they visit, they always have questions for him.

"Link, how did you know what to do when-"

"Didn't you just want to run away after-"

"Can you show me how to fight with a sword like you do, Link?"

It is always awkward for Link when they come to him. Because he never has any idea what to say to them.

_"I want to be just like you, Link!"_ they tell him, over and over_, "I want to be a hero like you!"_

But this time, it is different.

A woman is with Link this time. The children hadn't noticed her, at first, because she had been sitting near the back of the room, silent and calm. She sits beside Link now, and there is a certain detached, almost impassive air to her that makes the visitors wonder who she is, exactly. And what she's doing here with Link.

Link keeps his eyes to the ground, like he always does.

But the woman looks at them.

_Just like Link._

And she almost wants to laugh at them, because it's funny in a slightly sick way.

They have _no idea_ what being a hero means. A few glimpses of victory, that's all they understand about heroism.

They don't understand…they _cannot_ understand…just what he has been through.

Zelda remembers it well.

* * *

_"Link! Oh, Link…"All she needs to do is look at him, and he understands._

_He can only smile at her, weakly. Blood swells from his chest, slicking the earth that he lays upon, and the stuff shine in the dim moonlight, and his brave smile and his gaping wound make her want to fall to her knees and sob._

_The knife is very far in, thrust up through a rib. The bone has split clean in half, and the crimson on the hilt and blade of the dagger has already turned coppery red, nearly brown already._

_She can't cry, because she must be strong for him._

_Pulling the knife clean away, she tosses it to the ground, trying not to shudder as the blade sinks easily into the moist earth. She pushes her hands to the wound, trying not to gasp as more blood oozes forth. She can still hear his heart beating. Furiously, she forces her magic into the wound. All she can do is focus, focus, FOCUS, to slow his bleeding, to keep him alive until they can find him proper help._

_His hand finds hers, and both of their hands are soaked with scarlet._

* * *

The burn on his neck is livid, swollen. The centre of the burn oozes very slightly, the area around it thin and moist, flimsy ridges along the surface. The centre of the burn is a deep shade of pink, white skin flaking over the surface. Dark brown clots of blood rest around the burn, mingling with the sore patches of skin.

Link's head stays down as Zelda gently brushes away his sandy blonde hair, careful not to touch the burn directly.

"Burn scar. It was a fire keese." Whispers Zelda, and the children don't know if this woman is speaking to him or to them.

Slowly, the woman gently pushes up Link's sleeve to reveal a dark, thundercloud-coloured bruise on his upper arm. One girl winces at it.

"Octorok." Murmurs the woman, and Link himself doesn't move or speak as she touches the bruise, "He didn't dodge the rocks in time."

Most of the visitors don't know what an Octorok is, but they don't like the sound of it.

Zelda and Link exchange glances again.

(Do you want to stop?) she's concerned.

His eyes meet hers.

(They must understand.) he answers.

She nods.

Link pushes down the top of his boot, to reveal a thin white scar on his shin, the line of the scar slightly jagged. There is something obscene, almost appalling, about the whiteness of the line on his skin.

"Spiral fracture." The woman explains, tracing the scar gently. "A wall shadow dropped him, and the bone twisted."

They don't ask him how painful it is. They can guess, just.

She could go on and on. He manages, somehow, to hide it, but he bears so many injuries. Bruises, scars and burns are only scratching the surface.

He could show them where a goblin's axe hit him in the shoulder blade, a long, crimson cut splitting his skin all across his shoulder, the blood welling up like tears. He could show them the time a wolfos sank its teeth into his hand, the teeth marks nearly piercing right through it, bruises circling the punctures.

But he can't show them the pain on the inside, and sometimes he wishes he could. To make them understand.

The woman slips off her long white gloves suddenly. Two deep grooves rest just below the base of her wrist. They are not scars, but they still have not faded. She doesn't explain what they are, but there are finger-shaped marks accompanying the grooves.

* * *

_He gripped her hands._

_"You don't have a choice, princess." He told her, twisting her wrist very slightly, watching as Zelda winces in spite of herself. She looks at Him, her crystal blue eyes bitter as they lock with His fierce golden eyes._

_"I know." She replied, her voice devoid of emotion. Ganondorf doesn't mock her or even speak, but His cold, satisfied silent is enough._

_And she closed her eyes._

* * *

Being a hero isn't all flashy swords and dashing to the rescue. You cannot be a hero without paying a price. (They don't understand that.)

_You can't always be reckless, daring, and courageous. She wants to be, but it's not her place and she knows that. (Does it make her a coward?)_

_They could easily have turned evil. The path of righteousness is not an easy one, and they know that well. (But if you are evil, you do not have any excuses, do you?)_

Link cannot show them, can't force the knowledge of all the pain and suffering he had both witnessed and endured. And they cannot know who Zelda is, or her suffering.

Emotional and mental scars remain on the inside, remaining as the demons in their heads.

_You can't just pick up a sword and be a hero. It takes more, so much more, to be able to do what you must do, and not to just back down and give up. To give in._

"But you will never know that." she suddenly says, and the children stare at her, their expressions quite blank, frozen with fear and disgust.

"Never know what?" one girl asks, her voice quivering.

Zelda's eyelashes caress her cheeks for a second, and twin tears seep down the corners of her eyes, making awkward lines on her porcelain face. A boy suddenly notices a thin scratch on the side of her cheek, a recent one.

Link, with no thoughts at that moment except for her, reaches out and touches her face. She looks at him, and he looks back.

Only they really understand the nature of heroism. Only they understand the burden of bearing the world upon your shoulders.

"You should leave." Zelda finally says, with difficulty. "Please."

The visitors look to Link, their wide eyes silently awaiting his admission. Link nods once, unable to look at them.

They leave as quickly as they arrived. The silent that follows is heavy, but not uncomfortable. Link pushes his hair out of his eyes. The visitors will very probably return eventually, and they both know it.

He is their Hero, after all.


End file.
